


The Rain

by vici_diem



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fantasy, Meet-Cute, Rain, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vici_diem/pseuds/vici_diem
Summary: An imagine of how you'd meet Prince Caspian.





	The Rain

“Open the door! I command you to open the door!” you shouted, banging your fist against the wooden door incessantly, while the other hand is on the handles, trying to pull it open. But to no avail, it was locked. 

The guards standing outside your bedroom door are unmoving, despite your constant commands. They are standing there on each side like statues. 

You groan in frustration, kicking the small table next to the door hard enough to cause several things to fall to the ground. You stare at the mess on the ground, only to find a small brown pouch tied up with a loose string. You kneel and pick it up, holding it up to your eyes and inspecting the mysterious package. 

Curious, you untie the string and peek inside to find a long white pearl necklace. You pull it out, only to find a small note attached. It looks old, as if it was written from many many years ago. What is it doing in your room? In the small old table?

You unfold the tiny piece of paper, reading the unfamiliar words written by a familiar handwriting. The same handwriting that you often see from your mother’s old letters to your father. You read it out loud, ‘Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our destiny’. The same sentences that your mother had written to your father, in one of her last letters to him before she disappeared. 

You try turning the piece of paper around, looking for any clues of some magical enchantment but you found none. It was just a piece of paper, with a pearl necklace attached to it. How many years had this been tucked away here? 

You had never known your mother. Every time you do ask about her, people would say that she was a free-spirited woman with a genuine fear of being tied down. How her love of your father had partly rid of that fear. And once your father had seen how she was wasting away day by day, he had set her free, believing that she will return to him someday. But she never did. 

You had grown up to hate her, only to one day find the letters your father had secretly kept tucked in her favourite book in the library. You didn’t even have any idea that your father had hidden it there all these years, all you knew was that you had always been forbidden to read it. 

Yet one lucky day, you had found it on your father’s desk, with the letters strewn all around the mahogany table. Your father must’ve accidentally left it there, too drunk or exhausted to care. It was then that you finally understood your mother, why she did what she did. 

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the memory of that night. Your eyes goes back to the sight of the pearl necklace and the tiny note on each hand. Knowing what to do, you tuck the small note inside your pocket and the pearl necklace inside your sling bag. The same bag that you had always carried around during your secret adventures. 

You practically ran inside your wardrobe, picking your dark green cloak and draping it across your shoulders. You switch your regular shoes with your brown riding boots, pulling it up under your skirt and sling your bag across your body. 

The rain is thumping against the window, as if it is beckoning you to hurry. You rush towards it, pulling your hood up and extinguishing the light in the room, trying to make it look as if you had retired for the night. 

Looking back into your room, which had been the recurring safe haven from all the madness that is your life, you say your silent goodbye. And the moment you push the window open, putting one foot against the roof, the tightening in your chest cease right away. 

You could feel your lips breaking into the widest grin, as you bring another foot out. The smell of the rain envelops your nostrils, the sweet smell of freedom. You carefully close the window behind you shut, before navigating through the expanse of the roof, trying as hard as you can not to slip and fall to your death. 

You climb through to the other side of the roof, following your usual pathway. You would’ve spotted the same large tree that had been standing in the middle of the courtyard that would lead to the stables. The same large tree that had been leaning against the roof you are standing on for years, giving you thousands of opportunities to have your ‘adventures’ for these past few years. But there were none. 

The tree must’ve been cut down recently, ever since your father had found out your usual route. You clenched your fists in anger at the thought of your father standing there, watching as the gardeners are trying to cut off a tree that had been your constant anchor. The anger is slowly replaced with fear. Fear at the thought of going back to your miserable life as the daughter of a nobleman. Fear at losing your soul as your mother had been. 

Pride prevented you from going back, feeling your legs glued to the roof, your hands holding onto the tiles for support with the rain falling hard against you. You drift your eyes downwards, contemplating whether it’s possible to survive from the fall. 

“What are you doing here?” a man asked, sounding as if he was behind you all along.

You turn back in surprise, nearly slipping at the sight of a hooded figure behind you, sitting on the roof as if he had done it a million times. You couldn’t really see his face, but judging from his outfit, you could tell that he is someone of importance. With a white shirt underneath the brown Narnian vest, black trousers and boots. Not to mention the familiar black cloak. It certainly felt as if you had met him before. 

“Who are you? How did you find me?” you asked him back, preparing paragraphs of excuses in your head, just in case he is loyal to your father. Who were you kidding, he probably is! Anyone’s loyal to Narnia is loyal to your father.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m…” you turn your head, looking around for inspiration, before answering him, “admiring the view.”

“Sure doesn’t look like it.” he commented, pointing at your garb. 

“Who are you anyway? And how did you find me?” you asked once again, ignoring his comment. 

He pulls down his hood. The sight of him nearly causing you to lose your footing and slip. But you managed to held on. It’s him. Out of everyone in this universe, it had to be him. ‘Why?!’, you wanted to shout out. 

It’s King Caspian. He’s staring at you, suspicion and fascination glinting on the edges of his eyes. His black hair is soaked from the rain but he didn’t care. 

“How did you find me?” you asked, in a gentler tone, though you didn’t even bother with the usual pleasantries. 

He looks at you, wondering if he had mistakenly heard you. He didn’t think that anyone had spoken to him this way before. Counting out the High Kings and Queens and some few other close friends, he didn’t think he had heard someone speak to him rudely this way. Yet for some reason, he found it refreshing.   
He was about to answer your question, when you decided to slide your body to the edge of the roof. Your legs are dangling in the air, as you sit on the edge. Your two hands are holding to the roof tile steadily.

“Hey! What are you doing?” he called out but before he could react, you were already releasing your grip and had jumped to the ground. 

As soon as your body hits the ground, you roll a few times only to end up facing upwards, watching the drops of rain fall heavily from the sky. You try to get up, groaning as you do, feeling the aching pain on your spine. 

The rain seems to slow as well, switching from a heavy downpour to a light drizzle. You look up at the night sky, with stars still twinkling and thanking whoever’s up there controlling the weather. 

He was suddenly kneeling next to you, eyes. How did he get down here so fast? His hood is back on, and he snakes his arm around your lower back. You stare at him, feeling one of your eyebrows rising up at his sudden move. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he asked, “Are you okay?!”

“How did you get down here so fast?”

“Doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” you replied, moving his arm away from you and suddenly hating the absence of his touch. You clear the weird thought away and stands up, picking the leaves off of your clothes. Your hood had fallen off of your head, revealing your identity to him. 

He looks at you as if he recognised you. You stand there, looking at each other in shocked silence, wondering if he’s going to do it. If he’s going to tell your father what you were doing. But before any of you could do anything, there was a bunch of guards running up behind him, ready for a fight. 

“It’s okay.” he commanded, with a wave of his hand and they were more at ease, though still alert. 

“You’re the Princess.” he said, as if he’s saying the sky is blue and we’re not under the pouring rain. 

“I’m…” he began but you cut him off, telling him, “I know.” 

Everyone seemed to be shocked at your response, cutting off the King like that. One of his loyal soldiers are about to move towards you to teach you a lesson but he held him off. He seemed to be fascinated with you, wet under the pouring and probably looking like a wet mop. 

“Where are you heading?” he asked. 

You stare at the guards, telling him through your eyes that as long as they’re there, you won’t speak a word. He give them a mere nod, and just like that, they’re all gone, before one of the soldiers pat him on his back, muttering something that sounds like ‘Good luck’ to his King. ‘Good luck, indeed’, you thought. 

“So? Where are you heading? A Princess like you shouldn’t be traveling alone, especially in Narnia.”

“I don’t need your help.” you said, walking past him, feeling triumphant that you had gone through almost all the obstacles. 

At least until you found your father and his most trusted guards blocking the exit of the courtyard that would lead to the stables. Your eyes widen in fear, one hand clutching the strap of your bag tightly. 

Your father is still dressed in one of his outfits to greet the King in the banquet. The red sleeveless vest with a Narnian emblem in gold, and a white shirt underneath. He is not wearing his crown, since the King is visiting. And once he found Caspian standing behind you, drenched, he bowed, before asking him, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, for what ever trouble my daughter had caused. Please, come back in and my servants will bring you some warm clothes and wine.”

“Don’t worry, King Nain. Your daughter had not caused any trouble. In fact,” he said, grinning at you, before continuing, “it’s quite the opposite. However, I’d like to speak to your daughter in private. I hope I wouldn’t trouble you with a change of clothes and just some privacy, for a few minutes.”

Your father looks at you, with both fury and suspicion in his eyes, before diverting his gaze back to the King, bowing his head and telling him that he will comply. And just like that, you were ushered towards an empty room, with a towel draped across your back. 

Caspian is leaning against the window of the small room, drying his hair and taking off his cloak. You stare at him in confusion, wondering what his sudden interest in you is all about. 

“So, where are you heading?”

“None of your business.”

“If you leave this room, I might not be able to help you. So if you want to get out of here, I’d need to know where and why.”

“Try me. I could actually help you.”

You narrow your gaze at him, before you brought out the note and the pearl necklace, which fortunately remain dry from the rain. He takes it from you, confused, as he stares at the note. 

“It’s from my mother. She has the same handwriting from her letters.”

“And you want to find her?”

“Not to find her exactly, I know she’s long gone. I just want to get out of here, to see what she was seeing, why she had left my father.”

“I could help you.” he declared, stepping closer to you to the point you were both standing right in front of each other. With him looking down at you. He tips your chin, making you look into his eyes. And for some reason, you find yourself unable to move.

“Let me help you.”

With those words, there was some part of you that seemed to click and trust him completely. Suddenly, you find yourself slowly nodding at his words, the worries in your chest slowly disappearing.


End file.
